Page 27 of Heirs of the Cursed (A Curse for Two Souls #1)

26

Pixies’ Forest

By the time Naithea returned to herself, the monster she hid in her soul had retreated and returned to its cage. She was still short of breath and the blood from the wounds had started to dry, but an aching pain throbbed in her temples as a result of her loss of control.

Fawke Biceus lay unconscious before her, sprawled on the ground. His eyes were clouded, and frothy, whitish saliva dribbled from his half-opened lips.

What the necklace had done to save her . . .

Her screams echoed through Pixies’ Forest as she inspected Fawke Biceus’ body. Not mere cries for help, but of tormented anguish. She was responsible for this after giving in to the voice of the monster she harbored within herself. Just as she’d killed that man in the marketplace when she was a child.

She heard the heavy footsteps of the soldiers marching after her, but even the fear for her own life wasn’t enough to stop her from clutching the soldier’s chest with her hands, letting her full weight fall on him.

Fawke deserved to die. No, he deserved a fate far more gruesome and dreadful than the one Naithea had given him. She had doomed him to an eternal sleep where his worst fears and most harrowing nightmares replayed endlessly, feeding on his torment.

And for that, Naithea had to be punished.

Stopped once and for all.

“Naithea . . .”

Commander Ward’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.

She fixed her boreal eyes on him, as she continued to pump blood to Fawke’s heart, knowing it wouldn’t be enough to free him from the spell.

At the sight of blood on her body, the soldiers unsheathed their swords and scanned their surroundings for signs of threats. But they didn’t find any, for the real danger was in front of them, wearing the skin of a lamb.

Ward raised his hand, a clear indication for no one to move or act without his command, and advanced toward Naithea. “You’re hurt,” he whispered as he bent down to caress her cheek. “You must stop.”

Naithea shook her head and resumed her movements, counting silently to quell the guilt that gnawed at her insides.

A monster.

She was a monster.

The commander nodded toward Soldier Desford, who sheathed his sword once more before kneeling in front of Fawke’s languid body. It was the only thing separating him from Naithea, but he didn’t hesitate as he bent down on his knees and examined his wounds.

“I’ll take it from here.”

“No,” she replied firmly. “If I stop, he might not wake up.”

Osmond looked up at her. “I have him, Miss Utari,” he said, placing his hands on hers to show her that he would do his best to help him. “I swear it on my life.”

Naithea nodded, more to herself than to the soldier in front of her, her breath hitching with each small, slow movement she made until she was finally away from Fawke. Her heart pounded in her ears, rumbling in her chest like the melody of an uncontrolled drum.

She had to leave. She couldn’t continue to stand near the soldier, seeing what she’d done. Witnessing what she was capable of.

Naithea had grown up hating her magic. As a child, she’d wished her mother had been there to hold her and reassure her that everything would be fine. At that moment, she was grateful she hadn’t, because she wouldn’t be able to bear the disappointment and fear on her face.

“Thea . . .” she heard Leonel call her.

With the words trapped in her throat, she ran away before anyone could stop her. Before they saw the tears threatening to spill from her eyes and realized how weak she truly was.

Upon reaching the camp, Naithea pushed open the flaps that made up the door to Commander Ward’s tent, where her only faithful company were the embers of the fire roaring in the braziers. She fell to her knees as her hands clenched into fists. Her nails dug into her palms, scratching the soft skin.

A new injury, a punishment she deserved.

The sound of the fabric parting made Naithea close her eyes. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was because; in her soul, she already knew. If the commander wished to end her life for what she’d done, she wouldn’t blame him.

“Who did this to you?”

Naithea shook her head with tears already soaking her cheeks. “I can’t . . .” she stammered.

“Tell me, love,” he nearly begged.

She gasped, a choked sound of surprise, as the affectionate nickname slipped from his lips—one that dissolved every insecurity she had, that crumbled the walls she’d spent years building. His gaze, so soft and patient, bore into hers. The same commander who had torn through battlefields, his hands stained with blood, now held her gently, as if he would tear the world apart just to protect her.

“I was alone in the woods and I . . . I think he was following me,” she recounted. “Fawke said I’m a distraction to the mission. A distraction to you.”

The commander’s jaw tensed at that. “Was he the one who attacked you?”

“I shouldn’t have done that.” Naithea sank back into a feeling of regret. “I shouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

“It was you,” he whispered, the truth settling within him.

“I’m a monster . . .” she kept saying, trembling. “I deserve to be sent to the gallows for what I did!”

Ward held her tighter as he implored, “Stop.”

“ I don’t deserve to live .”

Naithea leaned forward, the commander’s hands still on her cheeks, until their foreheads brushed. They stayed in that position for long minutes, holding each other, feeling the undeniable connection between them fluttering in their chests.

“You deserve everything you want.” Ward’s gaze was unflinching, his voice a quiet storm. “I will reshape the very fabric of existence for you and bend the world to your will, until it bows at your feet. And if anyone dares to stand in your way . . .” His hands cupped her face gently, his thumb tracing her jawline. “I’ll watch you burn them all to ashes. Just tell me what I must do to make it right.”

His words carved in her heart, a promise he would fulfill no matter the danger.

As a tear slid down her cheek, Naithea felt the rough calluses and scars on his fingers brush against her skin, wiping it away. She reached for him, her hands tangling in his white hair, tugging him closer as if the world might crumble if she didn’t. Her breath caught in her throat as she closed the distance, their lips meeting in a gentle caress.

Ward tilted his face to one side to break the contact. “Naithea . . .”

“Please,” she begged.

A sigh left his mouth as he inhaled her fragrance, reveling in the warmth of her skin against his. They were closer than they’d ever been, so close she could feel every part of him against hers.

“ Fuck it, ” he cursed and kissed her.

As their lips joined in a kiss, their chests exploded with the force of shooting stars, with forbidden emotions older than the universe. He kissed her as no man had ever kissed her before: soft and wet and hot and passionate. She longed for his closeness and wished to embrace him until they were an eternal and unique whole.

Heat surged through her body like a burning wave of fire the moment his tongue caressed hers.

Fast and energetic . . .

A perfect storm.

Naithea shuddered at the first touch of their tongues, emitting a deep sound from the back of her throat that he devoured with his lips. When they were a tangle of arms and mouths, the commander deepened the kiss, holding her as if his life depended on it, and they both trembled with pleasure.

There was no pain, no grief, when being held by him. But as Ward’s hands fell away from her face, the lack of his touch felt devastating. The startled frown that had contracted her face disappeared as soon as the caresses resumed, descending her arms toward the wound Fawke had inflicted with his dagger.

Warmth grew on the palm of his hand, until it seeped into every bone of her body. Between ragged gasps, Naithea lowered her gaze to admire the blinding light that poured from his fingers. It didn’t burn, not entirely, but enough for the pain of her wounds to be a forgotten feeling.

When Ward pulled his hand away from her arm and the light flickered out, Naithea stared at her now scarred skin, where only dried blood and the shimmering stardust remained.

He had healed her.

Naithea watched him do the same with her thigh, while his free hand moved toward her waist. A sweet moan left her lips as they halted over her ass, lifting her from the ground. She clung to Ward’s shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist, confident that he wouldn’t let her fall. Feeling small and light in his arms, Naithea accentuated her already desperate kisses to keep him from stopping.

He walked toward the bed of feathers, kissing her as if she was the air he needed to breathe. Ward laid her back on the golden and green pillows, taking a step back to admire her. But it was the swollen, red lips from the kisses that Naithea thought would lead the commander to his own undoing.

And she’d embrace doom, as long as it was with him by her side.

“You’re not undressing me, Commander.”

Ward cursed under his breath at the provocation. “You’re hurt. I don’t want to be the cause of more pain.”

“Don’t make me beg again,” she pleaded.

It wasn’t guilt or desire of survival what made her want him.

It wasn’t that he’d healed her nor chosen her above everyone else . . .

Naithea wanted him desperately, as much as he wanted her.

She saw him halt to admire her, as if the Triad didn’t exist, as if Naithea was the only goddess Ward was willing to pray to. Her life had been hell. She’d been used, taken and discarded. But at that moment, deep in their hearts, this felt right.

“Come here,” he commanded lovingly.

Naithea stood upright on the mattress, moving forward until she was facing him. Even kneeling on the bed, Ward was incredibly tall. Her breathing quickened again, nervous of what was about to happen. At last, she would surrender to the Commander of Death.

“No.” Ward shook his head and lifted her chin with his finger, as if he’d read her mind. “Tonight, I’m yours to do whatever you desire with me, or to do nothing at all.”

She looked at him in awe, but in his midnight-blue eyes she found nothing but certainty and determination.

No one had ever cared enough for her to understand how much that meant. Not once had she been in control. Not of her magic, not of her life, not of her body. Maybe she wouldn’t for the next centuries, but that night . . . That night, her body was her own to do with as she wished.

Naithea ascended her hands to the laces of Ward’s leather shirt. Undoing them one by one until he was completely undressed, she revealed the hard muscles that marked his stomach, the lines over his hips that were lost beneath his pants, and a strong chest that rose and fell with each deep breath. She held back a soft moan and glided her hands over his body, outlining the scars with her fingers before lifting her head to meet his closed eyes.

Her caresses strayed to his lower abdomen and continued to trace a path along his skin.

Naithea fiddled with the laces of his pants, her heart pounding.

Her throat suddenly went dry as she found him completely naked before her. Beautiful and perfect, not despite but because of the scars that told the story of his life. As she lowered her eyes, Naithea’s eyes widened at his hard, thick manhood. Ward noticed the concern on her face, and with a quiet chuckle, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

Their bodies pressed together, breathing agitatedly as their lips moved with despair. Naithea found herself back among the softness of the pillows, tugging her garments off her body with nervous longing, and quickly lifted her face at the lack of Ward’s weight on her.

He was looking at her intently with those deep eyes that had tortured her since their first encounter. Ward clenched his hands into fists at his sides as he scanned her naked body for the first time. The wounds on her stomach, arms and back—the result of Madame Dimond’s punishments—had healed but there were still small scars everywhere.

And so, Ward dropped to his knees. He’d knelt before no one but his king, and that he would do it for her made Naithea’s heart pound with indescribable new emotions.

His hands settled on her hips, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed, and Naithea gasped in surprise. Her body tingled with passion, wetness already pooling between her legs.

“I’m going to savor you until your taste soaks into my tongue,” Ward growled, placing her legs over his shoulders; his gaze set on her. “You’ll have to be extremely quiet, love.”

Naithea moaned in response, her core already throbbing with arousal.

But when the commander parted her lips and his warm tongue caressed that sensitive spot with provocative gentleness, she couldn’t stop the moan building in her throat.

She thought he would silence her, that he would place his hand over her mouth so that his soldiers wouldn’t hear the perversions taking place inside the tent. Yet, Ward smirked between her legs and devoured her completely.

“Ward . . .”

Naithea lifted her hips to mimic the movements of his tongue, moving fast against his mouth and feeling her stomach sink with every spark of pleasure that shot through her. She propped herself up on her elbows to admire the image of the commander between her legs, holding her thighs to spread her open so he could taste every inch of her nakedness. The white hair falling over his forehead caressed Naithea’s skin to the point of exciting her even more.

Her head fell back when Ward raised his face, his mouth glistening with her wetness, and pushed a finger inside her slippery core.

A moan reverberated through her.

She could almost feel the end of the world at her feet, ready to fall into a tingle of complete ecstasy . . .

“Yes. Keep moving those beautiful hips for me.”

Naithea obeyed. A second finger joined the onslaught, the movement of her hips and Ward’s thrusts matching in rhythm and making her lose her mind.

Her orgasm grew with devouring heat, with the force of a hurricane, as his tongue resumed its soft, slow circles over her sensitive spot. And when the commander fucked her with his fingers, Naithea exploded into hundreds of stars pulsing inside her.

“You are breathtaking.”

Ward licked her core one last time, savoring the remnants of her orgasm, before positioning himself over her to kiss her. Her own taste flooded her mouth and Naithea moaned against his lips as she descended her hand between their bodies to cup his manhood.

He was so hard she could barely close her fingers around his shaft.

She started touching him, sliding her hand down his length in tight, slow strokes that did nothing but make him harder. Ward bit her lower lip at the provocations of her tongue over his mouth, taking her round ass in his hand.

Naithea raised her hips until they touched his, and his manhood was positioned at her entrance. Still, he didn’t move. Ward combed her loose hair and pressed a chaste kiss to her throat before searching for her mouth.

Losing themselves in that passionate kiss, Ward thrust his hips until he was completely inside her. They both gasped and moaned, their breaths coming in ragged gasps, and held that way for long seconds to enjoy the union.

“By the Triad . . .” Naithea whispered with pleasure.

“You’re so tight,” he said against her ear, nibbling on her lobe. “You’re going to make me cum without properly fucking you.”

Naithea laughed softly before begging, “Please.”

“Naithea . . .”

“I want you .”

That made Ward’s control dissipate completely. He shifted gently, holding his weight on his elbows on the sides of her head so as not to crush her with his body. When she raised her hips again and moved against him, he withdrew slightly from her, only to thrust in again with more force, feeling him reach deep into her core.

Her hands clutched at his muscular back, her nails clinging to his flesh as if she feared losing him forever. A grunt left the commander’s lips—not of pain, but of pleasure. Every part of her body turned pink from the exhilaration and warmth she felt, about to burst into flames.

Ward’s thrusts became harder, louder, and wanting to hear those muffled moans once more, he lowered his mouth to her breasts.

Her eyes rolled as his tongue caressed her nipples. He bit them playfully, without hurting her, and licked them, causing Naithea to arch her back in search of more.

“Ward,” she said again.

He moved faster, taking her as she so begged, until they both found the perfect rhythm. Naithea kissed him again, feeling another orgasm building inside her. She was losing herself in his arms, begging for more, begging for him.

With one last thrust, they both climaxed, feeling the commander’s hot seed spilling inside her without separating their lips from each other.

Naithea’s body was still trembling seconds later, but Ward’s caresses on her neck and shoulder undid her completely, holding her for a long time until she knew that no matter what happened, wherever he went, that was where she wanted to be.